


Hands

by surveycorpsjean



Series: 3rd Gym One-shots [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 3rd gym, Body Image, Body Worship, Multi, OT4, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, bokuakakurotsuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, the demons stop. They stop speaking. The mean voices in his head pause. </p><p>Because hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> this ship needs waayyyy more smut, so i gotchu fam

Hands.

Akaashi's  hands are at his own waist- he looks in the mirror, and trails them over his own skin. He’s naked, save for the boxer briefs, and stands before the mirror of their shared bedroom, for he’s alone, today.

 He looks at his imperfections- the weird cut of his hips, the not quite abs- the squish of his thighs. His nose is too sharp, his fingers too short. His knees look strange- his toes stand funny. He hates his hair- it always does something different every day. His tooth is chipped from volleyball; his eyes are too small. 

Akaashi wishes he was perfect- he wishes he could keep up with his lovers.

Tsukishima; long, long legs that curve up into a soft, flexible body. His stomach sucks into his ribs, his pale skin always so delectable. Beautiful gold eyes- the perfect eyes to stare into during sex- and _fuck_ those hands, long, and slender, and always every so confident, never shaking.

Kuroo; strong, and dangerous, wild hair that always flops into a perfectly unperfect mess. His throat is hypnotizing- broad shoulders, tan skin that tastes like salt and something else. His strong legs- his deep voice. The voice that whispers dirty words into your ear, the voice that soothes you when you cry- the voice that says he loves you _he loves you he loves you-_

Bokuto; ever so faithful. Strong, _strong_ thighs- the kind of thighs you want your head crushed between, and the body carved out by Zeus himself, probably. His abs, so defined you can lick them and feel the dents, his biceps, so strong they can hold you up against a wall and fuck you _so good._  So, so good. Then his _smile,_ dammit his smile. He’d smile for you forever.

Tears well in Akaashi's eyes, as he looks at himself once more, but he chokes them back- always, always chokes them back. He’s supposed to be strong. He’s supposed to be the glue that holds them together.

He wonders how he’s going to hold _himself_ together. Weird skin. Ugly face. Short.

It’s not until later, when he’s watching Bokuto swallow Tsukishima’s cock whole, as Kuroo leans above them, absorbing each sweet noise Tsukishima has to offer, that Akaashi realizes how insignificant he is. And it hurts. It hurts so bad that he covers his mouth and tries not to cry.

He must’ve made some kind of noise, because Bokuto’s head pops off of Tsukishima’s dick _so fast_ , and suddenly three heads are looking at him. Akaashi, frozen at the foot of the bed, closes his eyes and tells himself _do not cry do not cry-_

“Akaashi?” Kuroo asks face full of worry, “Akaashi what’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?” Bokuto, eager to please, wiggles over to him, “Did I kick you?”

Akaashi shakes his head no, no. He can’t open his mouth. He doesn’t trust himself.

Tsukishima, the ever so beautiful, sits up and _sees_ the tears behind his eyelids- just somehow, he knows. He always knows. 

“Akaashi.”

Hands. A hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Akaashi rubs at his eyes, and puts on his best smile, “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

“Obviously not,” Kuroo says, not buying his shit.

And how can Akaashi not say the truth, looking into the eyes of three beautiful people- beautiful eyes, beautiful skin. Akaashi shifts to leave the bed, “I-I’m just not feeling well. You guys keep going, I’m going to-“

Hands. A hand on his wrist. It pulls. Akaashi stops.

“Please.” Bokuto begs, “We need to know if we did something wrong.”

“No!” Akaashi shouts, and covers his own mouth. _Damnit_ he’s acting so _pathetic- “_ No, no. You guys are literally perfect. I was just…” He swallows, “I was just thinking about just _how_ perfect you guys are. You’re all so b-beautiful, you know.” He ignores Tsukishima’s eyes- he’s always the hardest person to lie to. Yet, he looks up- he looks up into gold and he breaks and he cries, “You guys are so perfect and I’m so not-“

“Akaashi!”

A pause.

“How could you say something like that?” Tsukishima actually sounds angry.

“Sorry,” Akaashi’s voice shakes only a little, “I’m going to go-“

“Akaashi,” Kuroo says low, and _dammit,_ he’s trapped. He can’t move- nobody is holding him but at the single utterance of his name by those lips he’s still. “Come here.”

And he does.

He slides forwards, and Kuroo takes him by the cheeks and _kisses_ him, kisses him so deep and hard that his hands, previously rigid at his sides, fall limp. He pulls back, hands still on his cheeks, looks him square in the eye, and says, “You are _everything_ Akaashi. How can you not see that?”

“Shut up,” Akaashi retorts, looking away, “You know that’s not true. Just- just go back to having sex or whatever-“

“Tell us.” Tsukishima growls- and its actually scary. “Tell us what you hate about yourself.”

“Please…” Akaashi whispers, because he really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. He should have kept his mouth shut he _should have-_

“Say it!” Tsukishima shouts, and Tsukki never shouts, so Akaashi flinches before shouting back,

“Everything! It’s all horrible!” He pulls out of Kuroos grip, and almost smacks poor, surprisingly silent Bokuto in the face. “You really want a list? My eyes, my hair, my skin- I just… I don’t know why I’m here. I don't deserve...”

The three boys share a look. Neither speak, neither say a thing, until Kuroo asks, “Have you always felt this way? All this time?”

Akaashi looks away, and Kuroo gets his answer.

Hands. There are large, soft hands pulling at the side of his face, and there’s Bokuto, teary eyed and looking guilty. Bokuto presses his forehead against Akaashi’s and says, “You are _so_ gorgeous Akaashi. Everything about you is so wonderful _because_ it’s you. You literally hold us together; you protect us and teach us, and _fuck_ you’re so smart.”

Still, Akaashi cannot see. He turns his head, not used to this much attention on himself. He can feel his body shaking, he can feel the urge to run.

Instead Tsukishima is at his side, staring holes into his eyes. “Please,” He begs, and Tsukishima doesn’t beg- “Let us show you.”

“What?” Is all Akaashi is able to ask, before Bokuto pulls him into his lap and there are hands. Hands. Long, slender fingers lifting his shirt up and over his head. Strong hands pressing into his thighs, gentle hands scraping against his ribs. Akaashi shudders- he can’t have this. He doesn’t _deserve_ all of them- but the other three are adamant. No. They are _determined_ to show him how much he means to them.

Bokuto kisses him like Bokuto always does- overeager tongue swiping into his mouth. He sucks hard, biting and drinking him in. Except now, there are more mouths kissing his stomach, licking the gentle curve of his spine. It’s too much- it’s too much. Akaashi doesn’t deserve it.

And yet here he is- straddling Bokuto’s lap, tears welling in his eyes as Tsukishima sucks into the dimples of his back, and Kuroo kisses a nipple. Akaashi’s heart is beating _so fast_ , and it begins to beat faster, as soon as Bokuto does what he does best; talk.

“Akaashi your thighs,” He presses his fingers into them, and Akaashi cringes at the squishiness there, “Ugh, I just. I want to eat them. I want them around my face. And your eyes, ‘ashi, they show everything and it’s so beautiful, you know.”

“Don’t,” Akaashi begs, but it’s too late. He’s already hard, if the choked moan in his throat and the bulge in his jeans is anything to go by.

“Are you okay?” Tsukishima asks against his shoulder, “Do you want us to stop?”

No. Of course he doesn’t want them to stop- but he- he doesn’t deserve this, _he doesn’t-_  But he looks up into Bokuto’s owl eyes, and shakes his head no. No. He loves them so much. If they want to do this, then he’ll let them.

Bokuto grinds upwards, and Akaashi whines. Kuroo, the self-proclaimed expert of removing pants, somehow slides his jeans off, while Bokuto rips off his own. Kuroo is so gentle, so loving, as he glides Akaashi’s underwear up and over his hips. As soon as he’s back on Bokuto’s lap, Akaashi feels a mouth, presumably Tsukishima, (as surprisingly enough, _he_ is the biter of the group) sucking a deep bruise into the curve of his ass. He groans, and suddenly Bokuto is thrusting up again and _fuck_ it feels so good- their cocks slide together happily, and Akaashi thinks he might die from overstimulation. He firmly places his hands on Bokuto's broad shoulders, now holding on for dear life. 

“O-oh,” Akaashi whines out loud.

At that noise, Kuroo is at his mouth now, sucking kiss after kiss, drinking him like water. Akaashi does everything he can to keep up- but the lips at his ribs, the hands on his thighs, the cock sliding against his own. Akaashi moans _so_ hard, and Bokuto finally smiles.

Now Tsukishima’s talking, saying words like “ _stunning,”_ and “ _beautiful,”_ against the back of his neck. Akaashi whimpers against Kuroo’s lips, and Tsukishima talks even more, “Do you know what your skin tastes like, Akaashi?” His voice is steady, and he doesn’t wait for an answer, “It’s indescribable. It’s _so_ addictive, Keiji,” He mumbles his first name, and Akaashi rolls his hips against Bokuto’s hard cock. Kuroo sucks against his lips and suddenly his hands. _Hands._ They’re at his nipples, flicking and pulling, and Akaashi considers the possibility of already being dead.

Bokuto mumbles something softly against Kuroo's ear, and suddenly- hands. They’re at his sides, lifting him up, spinning him around so he’s straddling Bokuto’s lap backwards and- fuck. Fuck. He’s near the edge of the bed, looking right into the mirror now. He can see their naked bodies, strewn about on the large bed, and he sees himself and closes his eyes. He can't look, he just  _can't._

“No.” Kuroo commands, against his cheek. Tsukishima is slicking his fingers with something off in the corner. “Watch, please, Akaashi. Watch.” Akaashi opens his eyes.

Tsukishima glides next to him, mumbles a kiss against his cheek, and prods around at his entrance. He won’t have to stretch much, but Tsukishima is always adamant about their safety. He slides a finger in, and its met without resistance- but worst of all Akaashi can _see._ He sees himself in the mirror, hair frazzled, body arched lewdly as Tsukishima works him open with his slender fingers.

Hands.

They’re at his ass, his thighs. Strong hands are pulling at his hair, long fingers are finally, _finally_ sliding around his cock, and gentle hands; they’re at his ass, two fingers, now, sliding up and down easily. Strong hands are holding him up, keeping him safe. 

Bokuto kisses at his neck, and Akaashi grinds down on the fingers below him. “F-fuck,” Akaashi groans, losing himself, “Tsukki-“

Akaashi sees himself in the mirror and whines, because it’s _too much it’s too much._ They’ve never done this before- they’ve never focused just on _him,_ before, but now Kuroo, Bokuto, and Tsukishima wonder why they waited so long.

Tsukishima’s fingers are _so_ beautiful, and they find Akaashi’s spot without trouble. Akaashi’s cock literally _jumps_ in Kuroo’s hand, and he whips his head back against Bokuto’s shoulder. He moans, and _moans and moans,_ and he internally cringes at himself. So pathetic, so pa-

And suddenly, for the first time in a _long_ time, the demons stop. They stop speaking. The mean voices in his head pause.

Because hands.

They’re scraping across his hips, they’re sliding around his cock, they’re threading through his hair, they’re guiding him gently onto Bokuto, and they’re digging into his thighs, showing him that _he’s not alone._

Bokuto, ever so strong, bounces him on his cock, and Tsukishima has to take a moment just to watch because _fuck_ if that isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Akaashi’s face is exquisite, his cock flushed and hard against his slender belly, his left hand gripping onto Tsukishima’s as he rides Bokuto _so well._ So perfectly. So good. Bokuto moans into Akaashi’s neck- he’s speechless, completely focused on holding Akaashi. 

Akaashi’s jaw is slack, and he leans back to groan, “Bokuuutoo-“

Kuroo can’t stand to sit and watch, for he slides onto his knees at the bedside, positions his mouth perfectly, and lets Akaashi fuck into his mouth with each thrust Bokuto carries him through. The noises Akaashi makes at that-sounds his lovers will think about for years- reverberate through the room, and suddenly Tsukishima can’t take it, he’s jerking off into his own hand so hard- and he feels guilty, he _knows_ this is about Akaashi, but he can’t take it. It’s too much.

It's not long until Akaashi spills into Kuroos mouth- who _always_ swallows, mind you- and he’s falling. Akaashi is falling, and falling, body spasming and holding onto anything he can. His vision whites out- and barely feels Bokuto cry out, pulling out of Akaashi just in time to come against his back.

Akaashi is woken up again by hands.

Hands.

Hands sweeping along his cheeks. Hands gently running a cloth down his stomach, down his thighs, and up his back. Hands checking for bruises along his legs, hands soothingly teasing through his hair.

All is silent, for a moment.

Akaashi realizes he’s in Tsukishima’s lap, held ever so tenderly by long fingers. Kuroo is the first to speak against his hair, “Do you see now?”

“See what?” Akaashi’s voice sounds ruined.

“How important you are.” Bokuto is drawing imaginary pictures up and down Akaashi’s arm, “To us, that is.”

Akaashi sniffs, and rubs his hand against his nose, “I’m sorry I-“

“No. We’re sorry.” Kuroo interrupts. “We should have _never_ given you the opportunity to think that way, ever. We’re so sorry, Akaashi.” He kisses his temple, and he feels Tsukishima nod.

“It’s hard to love yourself.” Tsukishima says, whisper soft. “These two goofheads wouldn’t know what that feels like.”

There’s a synchronized chorus of of “ _Hey!_ ”

Tsukishima continues, “But at least know that _we_ love you, okay?”

At that, Akaashi cries. He cries, and cries, letting go everything that he ever held back into the crook of Tsukishima’s neck.

And then there are hands.

Hands smoothly rubbing against his back. Hands at his hair. Hands at his arms. “ _I love you guys so much._ ” Akaashi cries into his shoulder.

Tsukishima and Kuroo share a smile.

Bokuto finally giggles, “That was probably the hottest thing we’d ever done. This beats the time we tied up Tsukishima 10 to 1.”

“Bokuto!”

“Way to ruin the mood, idiot!”

Akaashi dries his tears against Tsukishima’s warm shoulder, and laughs- finally laughs- too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i just love this pairing so much omg all aboard the trash train 
> 
> hmu my tumblr is zanimez.tumblr.com


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